Haiku Monday - Relaxation

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I just saw this.  Amanda is up with the contest this week.  I am at the end of my push into new territory of wakefulness, so won't but putting anything up right this minute.  I will be... considering.

I've been taking medicines, again, like clockwork.  Which has made pushing a little easier, for now, this time, or... something.  Or I am simply doing a bit better.  I am wasting it all on pushing my schedule around, but that IS something.  Later.  :)

elegance of alone

simplicity of breathing

psychic quietude

nowhere to escape

they are coming, it's overdue

help, help, help, help - breath

luxurious love

a humble smile with reason

angel on shoulder

(It isn't what you don't have.  It is what you do have that you must celebrate.)

The Seventh Day of Christmas.

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Oh, I know.  It may seem as if my celebration has been curtailed.  Not true at all.  While I busy the pages with other disturbances, each day I have set a large portion of my time speaking to, and listening to, my Lord.  Gratitude, for sacrifices, those He offered, those of the Mother of Christ.  Thanks for His teaching.  Bowing to the strength He showed in the face of men, in the face of Satan, in the face of pain and death.  While I cringe at my suffering, my imagination cannot even pull together an fragment of His pains.  I sometimes ease my pain with the knowledge of His pain, as one pain can nullify another.

I thank Him for the gift of hope.  In such a sometimes hopeless, hard, cruel world, through His words, deeds, and sacrifices, I got the glimpse of truth, beauty, peace, and the simple notion of life without need or want, privation or sickness, separation and death.  I didn't want to believe.  Why then and not now, why there but not here.  In time, when He called and I came, initially to contest, however, I was shown some things.  What?  I don't even remember.  Not all of it.  Just ask what would turn a wild wolf into a loyal companion?  I am not sure what I was which directed how I thought could be translated into what I have become.  All I know is nothing can separate me from Him now.

I pray, much.  I pray for you, friend or enemy.  I pray for us, as sinners, as poor Christians, as wannabe saints, as potential martyrs, as leaders, teachers, friends, and neighbors.  I pray for those who attempt to teach as He did.  None of us will do His job, all we can really do is... remember Him as we have come to know Him as well as we are able.  And pray for grace for our failings.  In my chair, in bed, on the road, before seeing a new or even somewhat familiar doctor, I pray within my life.  For the death of another, for the right marriage of a couple, for the birth of a child, I pray.  Sometimes for a cause, sometimes without one, sometimes with a Saint in mind, or an Angel, sometimes directly, I pray.  And, almost as often, I just listen.  But not just to air.  I open the channel so that He may speak, or simply fill me with His will, perhaps His way.  Prayer.  Never stop praying.  I even try to pray with my actions.  My blog, in my daily affairs, to Him, to God. 

Yes, in spite of the twists and turns and confusion and such...  I still celebrate the birth of my Lord, Brother, Teacher.  It is Christmas and will be for five more days, then on into the rest of the New Year and my life.  Imbued with the Holy Spirit, I rejoice.  My true Love gave to me... Twelve Days of Christmas.  Seven is a Cherished number, as well.  Blessings and...

Merry Christmas.

See, that's part of why I went private.

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Easy to mock from a distance, perhaps.  Online, real life but out there, pick your venue for laughing at a fool.  But when in the den of the roaring lion, the world changes.  Even when he isn't roaring at the moment.  Not sure if some are ready to read, hear.  Saw it, clearly.  It doesn't matter if I am believed, what I write here is a mix of stories, thoughts, visions, dreams, a dumping ground for things I can't just walk around carrying as it gets too heavy.  That doesn't make any of it true, or false, per se, believe as you wish.  It just is what it is.  The longer it has been pent up the more... potent... it becomes.  Potent?  I had repressed much for a while leading up to my going to ground.

To the young, especially, ones who aren't quite ready.  They have been told by the world that it's all easy.  That there is no pain that can't be medicated, that there is no right or wrong, that there are no winners or losers, that there is no real good or evil, or sin or need for forgiveness.  And here I sit, exposing the notion that there are ONLY those things.  I do it starkly, at times.  I do it painfully.  I almost bleed through the letters on my page for my distress from it, the truth of it, the humility of it.  Oh, they can get bits of it.  I know some of their parents really have tried to help them see, to prepare them for the world and the truth of God.  But here, there is no age sensitivity here.  There is no cuddling, or hugging, or a joke, after some things are stated.  It unnerves me, sometimes, when I go back in review.  Did I write that?  Did I mean it?  Urhm... what does it mean?  Like licking that sore tooth in the mouth until I have either loosened it enough to yank it out or I have pulled the sickness out and allowed the tooth to resettle.  If over an extended time, I almost forget that it hurts and that I, technically, am causing it, but for reasons only known to my subconscious or even animal mind in that case, soul in the other case.  Over and over, wave of pain after wave, and a little illness from the puss being extricated.  Even me, so I know.

Why go public again?  Because, while I wanted to keep this from happening, on the side, I had hoped to keep... others out.  I realized I wasn't keeping them out.  The ones I wanted out the most.  Not for long, or even all of them up front.  They have their ways.  So...  So people are just going to have to choose to read here or not, I am going to have to shield myself from the hate, and that's just that.  All else fails, and I get weak again, Christ comes out.  Not borne like a weapon, if He is to the wicked.  *avert eyes*  They will try to lap up the blood here.  They want the taste but not the price.  They don't seem to realize, without the price... there is no taste.  Too weak, usually, to murder themselves, for the blood.  Though some of them who have tried realize that is... even more empty.  And no one else can pay that price for them.  It is actually free, in one sense.  But it does cost your life, in the true sense.  More like an auto shop though.  God does take possession of your vehicle, only for a while and simply to repair and return, when needed.  Some can't see that.  Some won't relinquish what, in truth, they don't own to start.  Can't take it with you when you die?  Then you don't own it.  He took it with Him.

Yeah.  The expressions, the turning of the head, the avoidance of eye contact.  Fear.  Naked.  Haunted my dreams, it did.  Saddened, but... not.  Haunted, not by damage, but by the reflection of the reality of things.  I prayed for him, even in my dreams.  I felt for him.  But it is not my place to lie to him.  It does come down to winners and losers.  We, of our own accord, are losers.  All of us.  Even when we bow to God, our coats are soaked in His blood.  He is the ultimate champion and sacrificed His perfection in exchange for our sin, our losing nature.  We can win, but not in any way but through Him.  And what appears to be winners might already have lost everything.  It is why they hate.  All is not as it might simply appear.  Amen.

Hatred.

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It isn't just aimed at me, or mine, or my particular beliefs or values or faith.  Here is an example of what one woman wrote to a man who lost three of his four limbs.  Yeah, I'll stay in print.  I am half of that man, but I won't take it either.  Let it begin.

Ah, did I read union leader in there?  Right.

Yeah, well, a bit.

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More of the dishes were dealt with.  My appointments at the V.A. were documented and put into the calendar, with alarms up to several days to a week ahead.  Yeah... I need a lot of warning sometimes.  Then I called back to get the px filled for one of my pills.  It's a lesser one, but easy to take and does add just a bit to the desired results without tacking on any perceived problems.  Take what you can get on that score.  I then called the gym.  I have to visit the gym and sign off, and then wait two months.  There are worse contracts, and I did look into this before signing up.  I knew about this.

I am planning on making a bite to eat.  Perhaps an egg sandwich.  If nothing else, that I am conscious enough to realize I am hungry, and able enough to make a bite, I am a happy camper.  I hate when I am hungry but unable, or don't notice until I am running into such calorie deficits that it feels like the meat on the inner part of my ribs is being ripped off for fuel.  Yeah, that... really hurts.  So, I'll take what this day is offering, and feed my face before it's too late.  Sure, dinner is coming in later, but who honestly likes to eat once a day?  Even my girls get two actual meals a day, plus they have dry food on the side.  I just can't eat out of a can.  Hmm... dry food, for humans?  Hey, just thinking. 

Later.

Noonthirty? How about narcolepsy and British... humor?

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Just a bit off, as I try to figure out daylight again.  It's nice and bright outside, but I am so used to dark that I fear opening the curtains.  My eyes, they burn, even with them closed, for the nonce.  I am sure they will get better as I get used to daylight again.  Nothing done, yet, but I'm getting to it.  Well, no, I take that back.  I did re-rinse, then dry, some of the dishes.  One pot, a few bowls, and utensils big and small, remain.  No calls yet, but... it's... going to happen... soon.

It seems they have found out what causes narcolepsy.  My guess is, much of that they have been using to "help" the victims of this disease, were foolish wastes of a lot of money.  Then again, maybe that actually works?  Dunno, but it doesn't seem right.  Viral, genetic, in other words they really don't know.  But it isn't what they thought.  Autoimmune, probably, almost certainly, if not quite consensus yet.  Bleh.

Dishes, teh mom, medical, and some calls.

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Yeah, well.  Life isn't quite up to par.  I am just as deeply in the pits, just not so darkly.  So I begin doing what I can with what I have.

Trash was taken out, and recycling.  When I finished that I reset the dishes to a fresh hot rinse.  Then I had to sit a bit.  A long bit.  Not sore, just not on track or able to keep on track.

A call this morning.  My mother received here final gift.  Another "hat".  Yipee?  I was worried about it.  When I had asked what she received, well... her descriptions are not very good.  So I out and out spilled the beans to see if she had received this particular hat.  Nope.  Gah!  But it is on the way.  In describing it, she... really didn't like it.  All the other hats are fine, warm, but daintily so, women's hats.  This one, well, look at the picture.  She lives in the cold, I wanted something for warm.  Not really her thing, she suggested.  She got it today.  And she loves it.  She will use it when taking her little one out for his morning duty.  It doesn't hurt that it is ten below, and worse with windchill.  Timing, people.  I keep telling you.  Hate to love, disdain for cherish, all in the turn of a moment.

I realized that thumbs and some other parts are sore.  Too much fluid building up.  I kept going with the lower doses of the water pill, in spite of my notions, but I am having to surrender to the realization that I simply need a higher dose.  So, today, I added in the extra half a pill to my pill boxes, and took an extra half shortly after I had taken my morning dose.  Gotta do what you gotta do.  I need to call the V.A. and see when my next appointments are.  I haven't missed any, so far, but it has been tight sometimes.  A doctor, dental, and the heart transplant clinic... for sure.  Not sure about anything else. 

I also need to call and cancel the gym membership.  Once that ends out, I think a two month wait, I will begin looking for something else, something closer, something more secure.  Either that or use that money for... something else.  Something that will engage me in physical activity, even just once in a while.  I am trying folks, but I can't afford to be ripped off of gas that heavily.  Even if my vehicle was getting a quarter of the posted mileage I wouldn't be spending that much money for gasoline.  That was insane.

Oh, well...  A little rest, after this, with some music, and then... on to my day.  Wish me luck?  Good day.

Oh, trash day.

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And I must wake.  I've been up for a couple of hours.  Almost waking at midnight, but pushing for a bit more sleep this time.  Oh but that was nice.  For the most part I have been, or it seems like it, cutting sleep.  To be on the downhill side of flipping my day and nights is a generous gift.  I set the alarm so as to make sure I get trash collected, and out, and recycling for as little as their is.  Oh, and when I finish that, I will re-rinse the dishes that are done.  Yeah...  I realize there are more to do, now, as I have used some in the interim.  Still, what I have done is the bulk.  And, with them out of the way, I will set the remainder to soak and hope to have that done before too long at all.

Up for 19.

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It's enough.  I have, or am about to, develop my sleep and wake cycles back to night and day.  It's a rough road to walk.  But with medicine leveling out, and doing it's thing, and even if I am floating and drifting, life is coming together.

Small thing, but I did finish washing the dishes tonight.  They are in a rinse, but I will finish them when I wake.  Too tired right now.  Perhaps I will get to a few other things while I am at it.  Kitty litter has been kept up.  And, with it being a feast time, the girls have been getting an extra can of food every other day, until Christmas is done.  There will be Easter, though, and some other holidays to celebrate this way.  Hey, cats are... people too?  Well, they have almost as much claim as I do. 

Sleep well, figure out life in your dreams, sweet, sour, or savory as they may be.  I think I shall dream of the drudgeries of marital... bliss.  Hey, it's a dirty job but... call me Joe the Plumber.  ;)  Well, just a wanna be, a never was, a never will be, or... a miracle waiting to happen?  Yes, I... I think it might be real.  Even should it happen, I won't have seen it coming, even being... pretty sure it will.  I don't deserve it.  And I don't mean that the way some women folk might think, up front.  But then, on the flip side, we all know I do deserve it.  *Oh my!  I never!  Yes you did!  :p*

*my bad!*

Good night. 

Odd thoughts.

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Mix and match, new and old, questionable all.  Doubt if you must.  I do.  But don't doubt who I serve, wrong or right myself, God is never wrong.  And, in Him, neither are we... if only in the end.

Maybe an extended Christmas...

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is what the doctor should have prescribed?  I am solidly on half doses of carvedilol, the rest is at full dose.  Insulin is up to 35 cc per day, taken at bedtime.  My weight is about 274, but on a lower dose of the water pill.  Yeah, I finally got the scale out and set up.  Quite a nice one, actually.  My blood sugar was at 177.  Not great, but it beats the 280-350 range it was at.  Oh, and that surprises me.  I have stopped using any sweetener, and eat very little carbs otherwise anyway.  Splenda was fine, but the cost, at $10 for five pounds, was untenable.  So... I go without.  If I want sweet, from time to time, regular sugar.  It will just be quite rare.  But my blood pressure amazed me.  It was right at 134/92 or so!  Pulse was a little high, but I had been chasing the meat squirrels for fun and exercise before I remembered to take my stats.

Yes, I said it.  I now call cats meat squirrels!  Enjoy!  I do.  *meow*

I am adrift, still.  There is little I can push or pull.  And I still have to upgrade medicines.  Yeah, I could stop here, but there are reasons even I agree on going a little further with medication.  If I can stay on it for two years straight, then I will begin wanting to check function and consider reducing levels.  But for now, and for a while, this is the best policy.  Later.

Curious? Are you sure?

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If "they" didn't do this, then I did, somehow, natively.  I honestly don't know.  I only know that when I see this stuff that it is very familiar.  Not necessarily a tank, mind you.  Not this or that.  I just know these areas.  And it seems that I wasn't alone in them.  Someone was there, usually, when I was introduced, in any case.  Perhaps just family, perhaps friends, maybe my lovers at the times.  But it doesn't seem like that.

Fathers...

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How many of you have dealt with father-in-laws, or potential ones?  Something I never thought about until I was visited by them last night.  Four that I remember but I think there were others.  Ever been chased off by a potential f-i-l?  That's my point.  For all of my problems I was not only not chased off... I was welcomed, encouraged.  Even when I deserted, the hope was that I might... come back.  It was as if they desperately hoped I would take their little girl home.  Why?  You can tell when a father wants that.  He acts almost as giddy as she does, but in a manly way.  He becomes furtive, secretive, you see... much... going through his mind.  Again, why?

I had... forgotten these things until that dream let me see not just one incident, which is easy to set aside, ignore as delusion, denounce as a mischaracterization. But all of them, end on end, right in front of me... being able to compare and contrast?  No, no doubts.  Disturbing.  Especially when seeing some things in these days.

I don't understand.  I doubt if I can understand unless I become a father of a daughter as she approaches that age, the age of consent, of marriage.  I can imagine, but only imagine, what goes through his mind, heart, even soul.  Why would I receive... approval.  They had to know of my history.  Men know about other men, much like women know about other women, roughly.  Women know a vamp, a tramp, and a hussy, when they see one.  Men know a womanizer.  Then again...  I'm not sure what Desert Cat thought.  But he is somewhat unique.  This isn't quite his area.  Still, if he were commenting here, now is a time I would be curious if he sensed anything.

I know, it's still Christmas.  But the dreams, memories really, intense.  Those fathers were like squirrels in a rush to store up before winter hit.  They didn't want to get involved, to push, or pull, or block, or even encourage other than a very general allowance and otherwise hands off, just... watching... with some hope...  It always scared the heck out of me.  That much energy, pent up like that, in a man, can be extremely dangerous.  I was a fighter, I know what that can present as.  But it wasn't directed, exactly, at me.  Like a ref at a wrestling match or something.  Yeah, that's what it also brings to mind... highschool wrestling, not the fake crap.  Odd how we forget things that terrify us?  No, again, I didn't feel threatened by the fathers, just... didn't know what they were doing and had never seen men so... alive, involved... real.  Save in prep for war, but as if among their brothers in arms.

Never mind.  I don't even know what it all means, save that... I am seeing it again, if to a lesser degree.  Might be the number.  I have always targeted younger daughters in the family scheme.  This one is the oldest.  Perhaps fathers get more intense with the last of their daughters?  Dunno, dunno.  Spooky.

Oh, caught it!

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I had turned off my phone's ability to check my email.  After thinking some things over, I decided to change some passwords tonight.  Ten minutes after doing so, my phone sends me a warning.  Apparently, it is having trouble doing what I have done everything in my power to keep it from doing... checking my email.  Now, the thing is, while it says it can't check my email, it hasn't been showing that it has been doing so.  When I open up gmail, I have to refresh to see if there is any new email.  So... who is getting the updates on my gmail account, if I am not?  Damned little monsters. 

Old tech, much more advanced, in several areas, now.

After searching for any way to make it so gmail doesn't try to check, and failing, for now I have the device set to not accept anything.  I doubt if that really works, it simply won't tell me what it is doing or trying to do.  I am not sure I will continue to use gmail, on my phone, if I can't find a way to keep it from checking.  It has as much to do with privacy as it does with control and battery usage.  If I am going to mess with tech, I want to at least try to be in charge.  Yeah, good luck, I hear you.

To a friend, for my part.

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Well, I liked it too.  I was a bit shy, at one time, and would have preferred to stay that way.  It wasn't to be.  Some part remained shy, innocent.  I locked it away until it was time to try to release even that, but my way, or... the right way.  Still, that wasn't my public lot.  For some, it is all they knew.

Hard truths on this Christmas day.

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A bit of humor.

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It might be over the line for some of you, in some ways.  I know I had to shake my head a time or two, albeit I have been at least as guilty.  I take church, when I go, a bit more seriously though.  I actually really enjoy church, if often I have no idea what is going on, what is next, where to find it, or how to do it.  That part... is a strain.  But I do stay focused.  Still, I do know folk like him.  I suppose, had I been younger to join, I might have gone through that phase there.

Added another, if not of religious notions...  A little message, though, to some.

Quinoa, part two.

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I finally did buy a very fine chinois.  Now, I suppose I could have gone with a lesser device.  The problem is, with less cost came less volume.  My hands are like sausages.  Oh, they don't look like it, oddly.  They seem to be fine, for the size, delicate almost.  I can hide a quarter with my thumb, for perspective.  So, reaching in to mess with stuff in a small device is, well, either very uncomfortable, often untenable, sometimes simply impossible.  The other thing about buying a fine enough device is that purer sauces may be made.

My goal for this year?  More cooking.  Using more humble foods, but not just living on rice cakes and sawdust, either.  How can you make an inexpensive cut of meat, or even a vegetable or grain meal, better?  Sauces!  Cook shoeleather to a tender state, add the right sauce, and you would be surprised.  The best sauces come from stocks.  I don't prefer vegetable stocks, but chicken, beef, lamb, venison... basically any foul or stock yard critter can make for a superior stock, which makes for a super sauce, gravy, or such.  And, once learned, sauces are among the easiest things to make, if there are many steps from stock to dish.  But those steps are separated through time, and can be done, to a degree I don't functionally understand quite yet, in batches. I have much to learn.  I have the rest of my life to learn and little else I can do. 

Oh, but the thing is, the chinois I purchased is that it is perfect for washing the rind, or husk, or whatever is on quinoa.  It does take a bit, but if you just play with it like a game, it seems to take no time at all.  I must admit, I was a bit fearful.  That first batch I made of it, long ago, was horrible.  I can't remember what all was wrong, because I took a bite, maybe two or three to be sure, then spit it all out, tossed the remnants, and swore the stuff off as a no-go.  Ignorance, is all.

I cooked it just as I do rice.  Two and a half doses of water, let it get to a boil under a lid, lift the lid after it the water is boiling, let it get down to only a bit of water in the bottom, stirring occasionally throughout, then turning off the heat and letting it steam out the last of the moisture not being absorbed.  As with my rice, I think I did this flawlessly.  And the results were quite pleasing.

So, what does quinoa taste like?  It is the oddest durned stuff I have ever eaten.  It has a slight "green" taste to it.  I'm thinking like a very mild green... turnip tops, mild spinach, you get the idea.  But it has a bit of a crunch to it, like fried rice, or small bits of bean.  It is the oddest looking grain, when cooked, as well.  It looks like very tiny shrimp, or... fern tips without the green color.  The type I purchased is tawny, even golden.  A bit of butter (unnecessary all the time), a touch of salt to the finished product, and down the hatch with a whimsical smile as one of the first results.  It is a satisfying meal.  A complete protein, from a grain?  Yes indeed.  I may have to store some of that.  It is spendy though, so I will need to look for deals on it.  That said, it has the Doom seal of approval.  I am going to have to see what all will work with it, including desserts perhaps.

My next taste treat for this (still) Christmas holiday?  Well, beside duck?  Clotted cream.  I'll... let you know how that works out.  Oh, I know, crazy stuff.  Doom is a fool, but a curious, inventive, active one, when I can be. 

Merry Christmas!

Yes, yes, life is good.

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It is still, by my celebration method, still Christmas.  Twelve days of celebration.  Prayer, thought, music, joy, and feasting.  I have consumed my beef roast.  I will be thawing a duck next.  I may even try to make duck stock.  Really, save for a minor little spot of trouble, mostly from being weary of carrying specific water for those who don't understand, and a spot of the blues, this has been a post-card Christmas.  The Spirit is here, even in the rough times, perhaps especially then with a little help from friends and family.

The miracle of Christ is a shared one.  Men know part of it.  We know of birth, and children, and watching them live and grow and learn.  Directly or indirectly, when we have come to God I think we come to this also, even if from various distances.  Just that He was born, and lived, is a part of the miracle that is missed.  Ah, I have heard, but everybody was born, and lives or lived.  Right?  Well, no.  Look at all of the mass of all of the worlds we know to be uninhabited.  That, my friends, was not born and does not, has not, and will not live.  Perspective.  Miracles.  The miracle goes on from there, but surely that was the start, the first part of it.

Oh, for your mental health's sake, yes, I am taking my medication rightly.  I did miss a day or two, until two of you piped up.  Thank you, by the way.  And, for any of you who are angry with me?  Rightly or mistakenly?  You are quite welcome to pipe up!  I wish to clear any wrong air.  If I am wrong, I wish to clarify, apologize.  If you misunderstood, I wish to set that right.  Righteous anger is welcome here.  At worst, we will learn some small differences.  At best, we will learn to communicate better.  I can't see a loss.  I don't bite, not those who choose Wisdom.  Not even those who don't, if I will bark.  Barking and pain are warnings, not punishment, even so.  I don't like to bite.  I am very good at it, but it isn't the best of choices until it is the only choice.

Loverly!  I am hoping to figure things out, and get to things, but I think... that will have to wait until I am titrated to full doses of medicine and that is settled.  I will continue to try to get ahead.  It probably won't work, quite yet.  But it will save me from dropping too far behind.  I see the doc sometime in January.  Both of them actually?  They will probably be taking me up to full dose, which... not matter what... is going to hurt.  Just not as badly as when I was doing it, I think.  Another bit of time to try to regain focus.  Perhaps it is too deep into winter, with too little sun, for me to do a full recovery until spring.  We will see.  I am hoping to get enough going to begin seedlings again this year.  But... I want to get them kicked off in January or February this year.  They were simply too small last year, when I planted them.  Learning, bit by bit.

Oh, good day and, again, Merry Christmas!

Trying to keep private.

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Checking my email, something kept getting in my way.  I decided to read before killing, this time.  It was an offer to allow google to update my computer, to let me know when I have mail.  Convenient?  Possibly, if I received much email.  Most email I receive is a blog comment notification.  Even if I received a ton of mail, I would not allow google onto my machine any more than they already are.  I don't allow my smart phone to access anything, or... that is the goal.  If I want to check my email, I will.  I also have one of the cameras covered, and am looking into ways to cover the other camera.  I would create a sound kill-switch, too, for the mic, if I could.  They aren't just "catching" your emails, or "recording your phone calls", they are peeping in.  The only reason more of this hasn't come out is that it scares the crap out of everyone involved, on many fronts.  It isn't just the government, either.

I may just go to a landphone and dump my cell.  I'll keep the contract, but just for my mother's phone.  I am trying to back out of everything, for now.  I learned to keep my phone off, long ago.  But that is not enough.  I've noticed that, other than pulling the battery, the thing isn't dead.  Further, even with airplane mode and some other things set, the monster drains batteries like a beast.  It must have to work extra hard to get out my location information, and send mic and possibly photo data.  Believe what you will, but it is listening, or... someone is.  And tracking.  Especially if you are all politically incorrect, think for yourself, don't buy what you are sold.

Just... some thoughts. 

I didn't call my mother on Christmas.  Not sure how I forgot that.  Drifting... that's how.  While I can write here, it is iffy and just when it happens.  My brother sent a text message.  I'm surprised my mother didn't try to call.  But then, she is a woman, the matron of that family complex in her a.o., and was probably quite busy.  And when she wasn't busy, she was busier.  Working, talking, setting things up, taking them down, cleaning, and the like.  But she loves it, I would not deny her.  I can't really help her, sometimes other women do though.  Hmm, yeah, maybe a call this morning.

I realized I was light on winter and vehicle prep.  I never did order a tow strap, or jumper cables, so I have been looking.  Online for now, but the next time I am in town, if I can, I will compare prices.  I also need to get my kit put back together for the Xt'er.  I like two sets of clothes, from socks to caps and all between, a bit of food, a heat source, tools should be in the vehicle separately but aren't anyway.  I simply need to relock and reload.  I took it all out for B-Man and haven't since been in shape to put it back.  All good though.  I should go through my gear at least twice a year, and often do, to change things up a bit and wash and change the clothes. 

Well... later.

Terrible story, but then it all fit.

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A woman dies in her home, and before anyone who cared noticed, her home was burgled around her dead body.  What she had of value, who knows.  But return trips makes one think there might have been somethings of value.  Things that should have gone to her family.  Compton, California, eh?

How could that ever be brought to make sense?  Ah, because I realized that the burglars were probably just low level Zerocare bureaucrats, getting practice in for when another shoe to drop from that boondoggle of a law.  It seems, Zerocare will be doing the same thing.  It is forcing elders who make too much money for medicaid, onto medicaid, up to a certain level of wealth.  And then, it says the state can then strip mine the assets of those seniors.  Further, below a certain income for seniors over 55, it forces them into medicaid, offering them no other option for medical coverage. 

Yikes! 

Okay, I said it made sense.  I take that back.  I meant, now it makes sense in an Obama world.  Hell loves this "guy".

Yelps.

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Several, actually.  Did I hear you grumble, too, Desert Cat?  No, not calling you an interloper, it just seemed that one of the allowed had a bit of a fit.  Might have been foam though.  Or no one, you know how these notions work.

Whatever the case, I felt some one else, an interloper, about eat their tongue yelling at me for putting up something so horrible on Christmas.  To which I reminded them a)it was Christmas eve and b)that they had broken into my mindspace on the eve of one of the most holy of my days.  There is no cause for that, no matter if they think they are doing God's bidding, tending my health, protecting the nation, or whatever lame excuse they might provide.  I don't know if they received my thoughtblast, but it was sent without any regrets.  I won't back down from that now.  Okay... later I felt something, but not sure if if was from the interloper... I suspect, but there are several sources that it could have come from.  Actually, someone was tickling my feet.  Yes, I am crazy.  But, that doesn't mean it's not true.  Not being sure if it was an attack, I sent "hungry, very hungry" back at them.  Got tickled again, in several parts of my foot, and on my arm.  Truly, a tickle, giggled did I!  So sent "extra, extremely, hungry"... and as an extra, "horny", back at them.  Tickling stopped.  Might just be nerve damage from diabetes, but I've never felt anything like that without someone physically tickling my feet.  Wasn't the cats, either.

Gah!  I hope it wasn't my mom tickling my feet!  How do I even think such things.  Soap, toothbrush, eyeballs.  *scrub, scrub, moan, scrub*

Oh, never mind.  I just.... it's a diary, not necessarily the truth.  Perceptions, thoughts, wonders, worries.  Choose to believe as you wish.  Even when I am sure about something, like being tickled of mind, I'm probably more in agreement that it isn't possible.  A bastard in every way, neither this nor that, if actually possibly both, in truth.  :p  Tic-tac-toe.  We win!  And lose.

Crazy, baby.  :)  Later.
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Something foam wrote, in a comment, made me realize to write something.  "I'm really too short to ride this ride. But, I stand on tippy toes and cheat and sometimes close my eyes."  I did write something in a response comment.  I decided to expand on that.

I know it seems terrible, here, at times.  Darkness can crowd in, confusion can make things messy, and there I sit.  And yet it isn't what it seems.  No one was quite made for this ride.  The difference is, if it gets too much, you get to close your eyes, duck out for a breath of fresh air, tinker or play or work.  This ride is my life.  I don't have a way out, closing my eyes does no good, and I can't pray all day and even into my dreams.  Just, while you see some hard things here, know that I am probably cutting it, and you can take it or leave it.  Just... don't judge.

It's not me, or what I wish, always, just bits of what I see.  I enjoy the company, when it is to be had.  I understand when company splits as well.  It really isn't for entertainment purposes, if it isn't necessarily fact, only, again, what I see, hear, feel, taste, touch, think... perhaps imagine.  So, as long as we understand, should be good.

Sinner, angel, saint, and beauty.

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I have favored, among angels.  Some are closer to God, some more distant.  None should be taken lightly.  Of the host, each has his place.  They are seen, when they are seen, as handsome to the point of beauty.  This confuses some.  There is only one time, that I have read, in the bible, where an angel appears to have come in the form of a woman.  But the witness(es) where sheep herders, in the wilds, I believe.  It would be easy for such to confuse a youthful male, clean of whiskers, perfect in health, in robes, with a woman.  So I am not entirely sure of that case, myself.

And while angels do have an unearthly beauty, even in male form, I would suggest some things.  One, what those of earth take for beauty, in this case, is in fact a reflection of God.  As a stone left near the fire to warm may give off heat when it is removed, so to do angels reflect transcendent radiance when separated from God for a bit.  But what I see in men is much more.

From the most humble to, hopefully, the elite, there is no surety.  We can not reflect God directly, for He does not present to us in this fashion.  Through faith most of those who would shine stumble through life.  We cannot depend on reflecting God's beauty, even should we will it, all of the time.  Our forms are subject to ills and age.  Our minds are ravaged by doubts, wants, and needs.  We struggle with sin, and what comes from sin.  And yet, in this very thing, we are elevated above angels.  They see, we only can believe, at best.

Beauty, for some, truly is skin deep.  For themselves, for others.  Monsters, to some, those who are not beautiful are set aside.  Those who are not successful are spurned.  And, at times, correctly.  At times, not so much.  But often, in the ugly, in the diminished, in the ignorant, there lies the hope.  It is how we deal with these people, and sometimes ourselves as such people, things if we aren't quite people maybe more for some of us, that makes us more than angels can ever be... minor mirrors.  For we are free to rise above, accept more than just the perfect, and be who we are, as we are, and still reflect God.  Above angels, if very humbly.

Angels, and more.  Merry Christmas.

Oh ye of little faith.  Dolphins.  Seven of them, to be exact.  Don't believe me, ask a young child and learn a piece of the wisdom of the ages.  Blessings.

Merry Christmas.

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It's hitting me today.  That rough spell.  Not knowing, for sure, that today was Christmas, didn't help.  No problems.  Some Christmas seasons are hard for long periods, some for short spots.  This is the first bluesy day.  And, once I get over it, I will somehow enjoy having gone through it.  It reminds me of the sacrifices God asks us to make.  One portion here for this, one for there and that, and this part for oblations.  And so it is.  Some of it, like this, seems built into the system.  I, as I suggested, do not mind.  I am not sure it is specifically for God, or that He demands it.  It just covers the full gamut of our nature while we celebrate.  Perhaps being a bit of a surrender to what we have lost, each year losing a bit more no matter how much else we might gain?

It is difficult to be cheery when this hits, no matter how I try to mitigate.  Feelings, emotions, are separate from reasoning.  Urhm, for most of us.  Where reason can fit in with emotions is in deciding, when that is an option, how to deal with what feelings bring.  For my part, this time, I am turning over the sadness as a direct gift to God.  He bled for us, and more.  I can see how He might see such things as... worthy gifts.  Even, perhaps especially, in a season otherwise of joy.

I do try to envision Christ's birth.  There are discrepancies in the tale.  A manger in a stable, or not, among other things.  Which was it?  I honestly cannot say.  Nor, in a way, is it important.  It reminds me of the myths of my youth, right to this day, even about things that happened within my own life.  A family gathering, and everyone talking about an event, and few remember the thing the same.  Weren't we all right there?  Didn't we talk about the event even then, together?  How could we all remember it so differently?  Doesn't seem possible.  Only one of us could be right, but there remains a chance that none of us have it exactly right.

A humble baby, however, born to a woman who agreed to God's request, married to a caretaker standing in as guardian, somewhere humble, without family or friends, and with risk from the state hanging over their heads.  I wonder if they knew, at the time, the danger they were in.  I have always hoped that they were allowed to have peace until that was by needs shattered.  It amazes me, too, how little the state has changed in two thousand years.  Still, the birth of a child who would become a man who would bring the only hope for men, and others possibly.  That is a fleshly thought.  Another thought might be to see a singularity event.  Not from the ideas of men, but a thing for all time, once in time, never to be repeated in that fashion.  Repeated, but not for the same reasons, in the same place, if very possibly in a somewhat similar situation.  A once in all time event.  Rare indeed, in one sense.

We see it as joyous and simple.  But the truth had to be anything but.  A man marries a woman, one by all social norms he should not have married.  A woman with a child out of wedlock, accepted into wedlock but... not.  A child said to be God, if that notion had to be hidden.  A world in which the only two choices for that child were personal sacrificial death or one ruler to rule them all, by force.  Choices?  I suspect, yes, there were options.  It all had to come together just -so-.  People had to agonize, starting with Mary, but not stopping with her, and even to us today.  Each generation, each new born child, must share in that very agony of choice.  Unlike other so-called Gods, this one won't return until the faithful have been, for the most part, murdered.  Choices.  But God doesn't need us to believe to be potent.

Blathering, but so go my thoughts as I think of Christ, Father, the Holy Spirit.  When I try to find my place and do what They ask.  When I consider the gifts They give, the prices They have paid, the joy They have brought even when on the wings of suffering... my mind simply whirls.  Too much there for any man to encompass.  Christ suggested, when He walked here, that He did not and could not know all.  Not while bound by flesh, as I have it.  So much the less for us little ones.  And yet, we are asked to try, so I do.  Hrumph!  Even writing the thoughts correctly can be a bit of a... challenge.

Now, truly, Merry Christmas.  I hope Christ has been called to your home.  I hope that you have had Him in your midst.  I hope the pains and hurts of the season can be turned into joys, even through suffering.  I pray that you use this celebration in order to ready for when Christ comes again or the trials between now and then.  Yes, Merry Christmas.

Tresspassers will be shot, survivors will be shot again?

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Not by me, mind you.  They are armed.  They are intrusive.  They suggest these things are for my benefit.  And so it shall come to pass.

I can't... remember.

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Losing time.

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I pushed until I got to about 8:00-10:00 in the morning.  I would then crash, hard.  The last few mornings have been a great struggle.  This morning I am not going to make it to 8:00.  I'm doing good to hit 7:00.  I just don't have anything left with which to push.  Thankfully, the only baby involved is me.  I do feel like a baby, just not a normal one.  Then again, if you ask some women about their children...  Well, on to bed.  I have a delight set for dinner, I hope. 

Good "night".

Not just the youth.

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True, I think Mr. Whittle hits some fine chords.  I think the direction is correct, as a general rule.  One of the things I like about life around here is that these kids are taught these things.  There aren't as many as there used to be, but there are many children, compared to the rest of America.  With greater numbers comes less coddling.  They are loved, tended, and perhaps spoiled a bit, but not any more than a solid middle class and just two parents can support.  But they have chores, they have parents that expect work, have demands on quality, and push.  They are taught to shoot, to hunt perhaps, to butcher animals, they see the nitty-gritty of life.

Laugh at myself? I do. For good reason.

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Going private has done little.  Less than I thought.  They just think I don't realize they are still watching.  What they can do electronically, however, I can do natively, without no wires or electricity.  Oh but they do see.  They aren't the only ones.  They, however, aren't used to being watched back.  They know that exists, they just aren't comfortable with it.  I am almost certain they know they aren't the only fish in the watching ocean though.  They can probably only guess who else watches, and watches even them.  I could give them a list.  Funny world we live in.

Still, it did cut down on the chaos noise.  Legion is gone, the youthful free-radicals no longer tease, haunt, giggle, misuse.  Not that many understand, it is just that, like talking to a child too young about the birds and the bees, all you end up with is confusion, laughter, blushes, and such.  The ones who remain are intent, devoted... though to what depends on the group, and adult, if human.  They have learned not to let their feelings spill onto the screen for those like me to pick up on.  And yet, I can feel you, sitting there, quiet like, as a deer being hunted.  You don't know why you are quiet and unmoving, and intent, while reading here.  It's because you are in bear country, of the mind, spirit, flesh, and even soul.  I see right into your eyes with every word your eye reads here.  Do you see me in the words?  Careful, child.  You just helped me see even more.  Don't squirm, don't rock, don't twitch, don't... breath.  Closer... closer...  I'm behind you.

Crazy Ivan, baby.  But don't think it was blind.

The choir was wonderful.  It was a fine mix of men and women, adults and children.  They performed admirably.  There were treats for afterward, but I...  I could not stay.  Family, my church, this church, that convention, I... usually sneak out.  I love company, sometimes.  But I needed to think, after the music, I think.  I enjoyed the company, but I see that they see.  There was that, too.  Yes, yes, crazy old coot.  Hushutup.  I am blind but I most definitely see.

I did get dressed, shaved, and put on my Sunday best.  It is not typical.  Chords, but the right shirt.  No tie, and I couldn't find my suit coat... or whatever these modern fineries are called.  The tie was too tight tonight.  The suit jacket just a touch out of reach for my stumbling mind to guide my hand to.  I looked as good as I get.  Butt ugly, but large as a rock and twice as dense... in all ways one could take that.  Now, all I could find in the time allotted was hiking boots.  They are leather, though, so...  Urhm, probably need polishing, and waterproofing, but...  I did what I could.

I could say more, but I like to let the unofficial readers... wonder.  :p  *laughing grin*

Afterward I made it to town.  Milk, cat food, cat litter, and a few things to make sure Christmas can be celebrated without great hunger or privation.  Simple things, but it is the simple things that... mean so much sometimes.  A glass of milk, fresh, whole, real.  You only have to sweat it out in some shithole of a jungle for a couple of weeks to start wanting mommy and milk, and cookies.  And, and, and...  But I have it.  And, at least I can call my mom.

Later.

Christmas. A new way, for me.

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Oh, don't be too out, but... I never know when Christmas, or Thanksgiving, or... my birthday is.  I'm just not good at some things.  Sure.  Laugh it up.  Enjoy one of Doom's weaknesses.  I don't mind, it's just the way of it.  Nor do I mind, for my part.  Today, tomorrow, yesterday, a week from now, three years ago, ten years from now...  You... just have to have the right perspective and then you understand... some other things.  Time is not what it seems.  What is, was, will be, and could be all mingle into a form of...  Never mind.  Oddly, I do believe most of you know at least some of that which I speak... if you all probably know exactly when those holidays fall.  You simply haven't drunk deeply enough from the cup about which I speak.  I've tasted the last drop.  Tastes nothing like Folgers, by the way.

I suggested I would begin looking for notions regarding the 12 Days of Christmas.  And so I have.  Here is a more modern adaptation to the notion.  While this is by a Catholic author, I do believe there are some in all or most denominations who celebrate a similar way.  I know there are Mormons who do as well.  It is, actually, a tradition dating, from what I have read, from before the Martin Luther.  While he wasn't the first splitter, he created the longest lasting schism.  Anyway, here is a modern notion.  I was correct, it is celebrated in the days following Christmas itself, and Christmas Eve is a part of it.  Yeah, I... dig deep when I go long.  I suppose, if I piss you off, you were probably pissed off already, you were just waiting for someone, anyone to say something, or... anything.  Ha!  The good thing about the link is it offers a mixed view, so you can see what might work for you.  It's, for me, a start.

I was starting to fear that tonight, or... today... was Christmas.  So confused, so often, about some things.
Oh, now I may play Christmas music.  I don't have to find Catholic choirs.  But I will be looking to small church setting choirs.  I will be going to an event to... this evening.  So I will get to hear some Christmas music from a fine town choir personally too.  But, for now, for here, for toni... this morning...

A question for the intrepid adventurers here.

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There is a man, a local.  I call him friend, and I believe it to be mutual.  He doesn't know about me, about the same way you guys don't know about me... often.  :)  But I think he sees something there.  Entertaining?  Provocative but in a... usually reasonable manner if heavily weighted on one corner of the squared quad of reality?  Informative?  Perhaps with a different take on faith than what is allowed in church these days?  Perhaps just the first, entertainment, I never know, with certainty, anything.  I just approximate and shoot.

Aye, but he isn't just any man.  He is also the father of the young woman I have... had thoughts concerning.  Clean as those thoughts truly are, they do encompass the notion of more.  I don't... sexually ponder, mentally manhandle, good women.  You just have to trust me.  And, perhaps, some anger about that, even if he understands it rightly.  He is no more sure what to do with that than he is to do with me.  I cannot be sure about the exact nature of the anger.  Not everything is what it seems, and I have my ways of seeing past some nominally typical assumptions and into the heart of things, if I... can easily be mistaken.

The thing is, if he does visit, I think he enjoys it very much.  His miss-takes regarding what he reads here are no different than yours, or even mine (just... work with me).  Just, from his own perspective.  The thing is, I would like to invite him.  I thought to ask for his email, and just send a blind invitation.  But... that...  I must be sure he does indeed read here.  While I do sense, that... has to be... evaluated in real time before I move forward with something, anything I perceive that way actually.  That could be a huge mistake, should I be wrong.  So, should I decide to invite him, which I probably will but would like some feedback from you all, I will simply ask him if he reads here and if he wants to continue.

He will never comment, most likely.  That isn't the point.  He won't involve himself in any way, probably not visiting other bloggers.  Though I suspect his wife very much enjoys haiku, so she may.  And yes, when she can handle it, she reads here, or he shows her things.  She never knew... until it touched her, that something like haiku even had meaning.  She is still a bit... uncomfortable here, but...  for teh art?  :p  I am considering whether to... edit some things I have written since I closed shop to the public, or not.  If not, I will discuss another... THE... issue... with him.  No, just very passively unless he... has more interest in entertaining that conversation.  Brave or foolish, I do what I do.

I hate these... or keep trying to hate them.

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But, here I am... showing one.  ArgHghghhh!  No commentary.

Welcome.

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It was beastly getting just you three in.  I can't but imagine that google would rather no one visit, or that the page even exist.  I'm not sure why they haven't burned it yet.  Then again, they have tried.

I don't know if you have all joined.  But I do know, if you haven't, we will be trying to get you signed up again, in a month.  They say a month is 30 days, but it wouldn't surprise me if 30 days is the max, but it being a calendar end of the month thing.  So, if you haven't joined this blog, somehow, expect to be going through this again.  How do you join?  Good question.  Their instructions for any of this were written in Chinese, by Indians, then translated into French by Cubans, then translated into English, probably British English by a Pole, then it drifted into more familiar American vernacular by accident.  Mud.  Not even really mud, clear as moist dirt.  Thick, deep, pungent, alive, dirt, at that.  Bleh.  Oh, I can see these tech giants helping Zerocare... They and their ilk built it, and they have their own accomplishments behind them as well.  *cough*  Hiring minorities and putting them in power, at any cost, HO!  *grins*  Love my enemies to be fixed, fearless, arrogant, and stupid and weak by design.

Dreams.  I thought I heard Santa and some elves.  Seriously, I could only hear, they were working to open room for the sleigh and track to the stables... removing snow.  They had been so busy building gifts that snow removal was a last priority.  No, no, that's how it usually works, nothing unusual there.  I tried to wake up, but could only mumble to myself to wake up.  Did no good.  Turns out, they were here, shoveling my snow.  They always beat me to the punch when school is out and I am sleeping off.  I would like to have had them in for hot cocoa, or given them some to go.

I did, eventually, wake, a bit, at about 11:00.  Since I hadn't gone to bed until... 8:00-9:00... I really am surprised I woke at all.  I could not remember which life this was, though.  A studied check of my weapons stash, I always have had weapons within reach, showed me what world I was waking to this time.  I saw the katana first, but I have never owned such a sword, so I knew that wasn't it.  Yeah, I know my weapons.  next I saw the pump shotgun...  Memory became a little clearer.  Aye, but it was the 9 mm and the Kalashnikov that set the time stamp and which life.  Them's are new.  I have seen the future, but not that part of it, should I even be in it.  I'm not sure much will change, but then I never do, if change is rather rare and slow... even in these times, for all practical purposes.

Later.

Not doing so well.

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I'm not sure what is going on, but health-wise, I am a little on the green gilled side of things.  It's not the worst shape I have been in, by far.  But it's far from the best.  Only a step or two down from where I was, but noticeably.  I'll get over it.  I have been taking my medicines, but it feels like everything is wrong anyway.  It does this once in a while, but usually after missing medicines for a bit.  It's like those days when you have worked just a little too long and you are just about to come down with something.  Oh, I'm not coming down with something, I just don't.  Either I get hit, and hard, or I don't get it.  But I've lived around humans enough to know that most go through a slow decline before becoming ill.

We were supposed to get another four to six inches of snow.  We did get some, it looks like, but not all that much.  Maybe two inches, though I will know better in the light.  If I can get to sleep before long, I hope to get the scoop out before the neighbors feel obliged.  Then again, I think they like to do it.  It is physical work, charity, and "dad" likes to see the boys do something real.  And, I think he likes to be with them.  :)  I am jealous, in the best of ways, if somewhat painfully.  I'll enjoy my distant, and sometimes close, view of it though, when I can.

I can't quite stay up more than twelve to fourteen hours, and I sleep between eight and twelve hours.  I've sort of been tracking, in case that was part of the problem.  Nope, that just isn't it.  While it isn't the best, it seems to be a result of whatever else is wrong.  Gosh this is a tough fall and winter.  I'll keep trying to dig out.

I know you don't understand.  But there were too many people reading here, of too many different sorts.  Young, old, middling, those who appreciated, those who didn't, those who were highly variable.  I felt all that.  I really did.  I can handle some, but not that much.  I was a bit surprised, but you two don't show up as having visited.  Sometimes I will get instant hits, but it doesn't track time, at all, unless you have been showing up for just a second or two each time?  Oddly, while it shows no one visited, it does show some hits.  I think, think, I say, Desert Cat hits three to four posts the last few visits.  And foam seems to have hit two posts, in each of her last two visits.  But the darned thing really isn't good for real counts.  The thing is, I was at fifty official visits a day, not counting you, me (I have figured out how to not show up as well), and several others I know visited but didn't show... they left comments without adding to the counts, by time.

At 50 official page hits a day, and perhaps, definitely, another... five or six I was sure had visited for one reason or another, I would add at least half as many again, conservatively.  Like I said, I seem to be known locally.  I'm not sure where they would have gotten my pic, but... I think I posted it on my old account.  Oddly, I can't seem to access that, even when signed in, but that doesn't mean those with a touch more tech savvy notions can't.  I thought I took the picture down.  Then again, once something is on the interwebs, it seems to have a permanency that is creepy.  Blathering.  Tired.  Want to try to push but I ran out of shove.

Good "night".
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A few pictorial responses to go with the comments...

Lucky?  I don't think luck plays a part.  Neither do I think I am that good.  Amen.

While looking for new games I found one.

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Oh, tales, of course.  I never had to go looking for who killed me, or even seek revenge or justice.  While I am not absolutely sure that I am still living, on earth, as I knew things...  Actually, I know I am not.  I might be insane, that is one potential.  If I am, the health care providers have proved too wrong to know.  For my part I think not.  If I am simply on earth, in flesh, then I have changed.  What was, isn't.  I can see, touch, taste, and the rest, but not.  And what I can see and hear and such, isn't always, or could be, will be, might be.  Either that or I am still in purgatory, never having left it.  I have to guess that no matter how close to flesh such a place might feel, you would have some inkling that things just aren't quite right.  At least some would.  I would be among those.

Whatever the case ends up turning out to be, for I truly cannot divine the truth of this notion for all my worth.  No longer do I worry about it, either.  I decided, some time back, to take this life, existence, I have, at face value, head toward heaven, and not let anything stop me.  Not even me.  Actually, for all the evil that is out there, the truth is, only I can grant me hell.  Heaven is quite open, if I choose it.  The path may be narrow, it may be difficult, but the other way is worse when you... understand some things.  One word will help you understand.  Addiction.  Misery, in larger and larger doses, looking for the fool's gold heaven known as hell.  A shortcut, but there are no shortcuts.  Only dead ends and the path.

Yes, yes!

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Oh yes.  But more than a moment, now.  I needed a break.  I took it.  Might go public again, someday?

A Moment?

simplicity of

soul ~  the cool touch of nothing

auditory nil

The world, she spins!

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Bruised and battered from trying to push my day around.  I am sprinting toward my goal and still losing ground somehow.  I DO know what a salmon on it's return run goes through.  The current, the rocks, the jumps... the fishermen and bears.  All, though, of my own devices.  Throw the world in on it, and... it is an epic swim by a humble being.  Sometimes all I am is a bundle of will to survive.  Nothing else can remain or I should ghost a final time.

Sleep is hard, being awake is hard, everything hurts just a little.  The pain isn't overwhelming, but as the pebbles in the shoe when they cannot be handled due to the urgency of the march, the subtle suffering is it's own unique form of torture.  I just have to focus erstwhile, when I can.  Then narrow that focus to a laser beam of the meanest of point.  In doing so, capacity to function narrows and can be swallowed by the void of everything else.  Does what I just wrote even make sense?  It is my mind talking with raw thought-feeling.  Right past, and over, my conscious mind... like a... diamond bullet, not into my mind but out of it.  Clean, crystalline, pure.  Yes, yes... like that.

Down by... 8:00?  Up at perhaps 16:00?  Dunno, but... all around and thereabouts.  Medicine is being taken correctly.  I have thawed meat and eaten lately.  Steaks, then chicken gizzards.  I even when a bit fancy with the gizzards.  I breaded them, baked them, cooled them, then put them in beaten egg and coated them with panko, before frying them in lard.  Oh, yes, that is the crunch I so dearly wanted.  Yes, that will make fried chicken perfect.  No dishes, no laundry, barely moving, things hurt, can't think, can't sleep, awake solidly but lost in fog.

Christmas?  It's coming, isn't it, soon.  I did review the 12 days of Christmas thing.  Yes, it is after the official day.  I need to see if I can get out and buy a quality taper candle for an hour burn each day.  A few years ago, members of the local church brought by a 12 days of Christmas candle.  And I did use it, within my capacity.  I think my goal, with Christmas celebration, is to light the candle each day, and spend some time, an hour would be great but my focus won't work... just... some time... praying.  While the candle is light...  Mostly just to thank and praise God in Christ.  To thank Jesus for His teaching and sacrifice and the grace He offers.  Yes, I think that will be my goal.  I may do an official write-up, so as to keep it and then begin making it my tradition.  What do you do for Christmas?

Later.

Someone else is here.

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Ah, wasn't sure who, but I suspected.  Now I know.  Hi foam!  *waves* *smiles*



Glad you could make it.

Okay, well, working.

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A steak, the last of them, was cooked.  While it was juicing (I like to add salt to the tops, then let it sit for an hour while also coming to room temperature), I reset the dishes.  The goal is to get those taken care of tonight, and a load of laundry through.  That will be it, or almost all of laundry.  I suppose I could do a couple of very small loads.  Not much else going on for me tonight.

I had planned to get out and try the repaired snow blower.  We ended up, probably, with about six inches of snow.  Yeah, well, my wish.  And I don't mind.  As I said, we didn't get the freezing rain first, or interspersed, or after, as some parts of the state did.  Ugh!  Yeah, I'm probably not going anywhere, but that isn't the point.  And, you never know.

The neighbor showed up, with his boys.  But they showed up right as I finished cooking dinner!  I couldn't invite them in, there wasn't enough.  And I wanted to eat while it was still warm.  I rarely get such a treat.  I did explain.  And, yeah, he could smell it.  The snow blower worked perfectly.  The price was much... better than I had feared.  Maintenance issue.  *cough*  Yeah, yeah, but... for running it for nearly ten years without doing a thing to it, actually... not bad.  It has already more than paid for itself in exchanged effort.  Most likely, it will continue to do so for many years.  With a bit more maintenance *cough* it might even be free, save the cost of maintenance.  Or effort and cost to lower that.

Having great troubles with blogger allowances.  I haven't heard from Michael.  I did send him an email asking about it.  But foam is not receiving the email.  Odd that a non-google email would get the email from a google account, but from google to google they get lost?  Ah, I bet these jackwagons were in on Zerocare.  Go figure.  Then again, at least for Zerocare, I am quite pleased with their work.  Idealism?  Meet the real fucking world.  You would think that would wake them up, but communists are too God damned stupid to ever wake up.  Thankfully, that is what hell is for.  And, yes, they do wake up there.  No choice.  Believe.

Hmm... trying to push my days back into days is beastly.  I should chunk down a handful of aspirin.  Then I will continue to shove.  I will shove until I can't.  It's not much, but for the pain of it you would think I was doing real work, and too much real work at that.  Being mostly dead really sucks some days.  At least I'm not into onesies, hairy asses, and Zerocare.  There is that.  Someone once asked if, as a werewolf (hypothetical and symbolic, I think, they meant, sort of), if I liked hairy werewolf women?  Of course not, says I, for there is no such thing.  Women are for the day job only.  Duh.  Damned kids, don't know nothing.  Actually, there are no vampire women, either.  The closest you get are the half-dead pop-tarts, for perpetual tasting.  They aren't true vampires at all.  Like wild chicks, they must be fed, can't feed themselves. *grins*

Believe the stories as you will.  I tell you as I see it.

Oh, ouch.

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Bad, bad, headache.  No, Vox didn't cause it.  Laughing at my response to foam's query at her blog isn't the cause.  No, pushing my clock around is it.  I didn't go down until 8:00 or 9:00, maybe later.  Then I slept like the dead I think.  I didn't roll, not sure I moved.  *bam*  And my neck suffers, thus the headache.  As far as headaches goes, it's a beaut.  It's not a migraine, but as for just regular headaches, it is a perfect 10.  The pain is clean, bright, and clear like lightning.  There is just enough throbbing near the spine to add that element, but it doesn't come close to the major pain, just a nice solid backbeat to fill out the pain profile.  The skeletal portion is just that right amount of ache that one looks for to boast an exquisite medley of suffering.  And the whole thing, all together, is enough to keep thinking to very narrow pathways.  Hmm, pain as a fine wine of sorts?  Who knew.  Actually, after tasting fine to table to swill, I prefer a good headache to most wine, so... there is that.

I woke at about 17:00.  I noticed my mother had called.  She has received all her packages, and as per my instructions, opened all but two.  Then again, maybe, maybe not.  She fibs every bit as much as I, if misunderstandings occurred.  I tell her I am taking my meds, even if I slipped.  So she doesn't worry, at least if it was a short term.  While I asked her to save the two smaller packages for Christmas, she may have missed my instructions, or... in her exuberance, mislaid my instructions.  Still, I'll take her word for it.  Anyway, one of the things I got her, that she was technically allowed to open, was a package of #10 cans of freeze dried meals.  A couple beef stroganoff, a couple chicken and rice, chicken teriyaki, and several other chicken entrees.  She had beef stroganoff on mashed potatoes with her roommate the other night.  Delightful, she thought.  For all the meals, as such, that she has sweated to get the ingredients for from the store, then chopping, separating, and preparing, then all the hot kitchens she has stood in, slaving for a little food for those under her care, I just thought she deserved a little ease of eating once in a while.  And it is a good store.  She might even consider, when her largish supply runs low, of adding a can once in a while to have on hand.

Then she goes and tells me she made fried liver and onions.  She confuses my brother and myself, I think.  She meant to tease gag me.  My brother literally tossed that up, when we tricked him by telling him it was steak.  (My idea, since I thought he was faking... my bad.)  Nope, wrong son.  But she did get a rise out of me, that of jealousy.  I LOVE her onions and liver.  She pan fries it, making a gravy.  I have never found any restaurant or person who makes liver as she does.  I miss that like I miss her true Mexican food.  I can get some passable taste of Mexican, from time to time, but not liver.  Danged woman has us boys pegged, even when she mixes us up!

Yes, I'm back on medicines.  That might help explain the headache, or the sleep problems that might be the cause of the headache, but just as likely neither.  I just lead a painful life sometimes.  With half the dishes done, I decided to thaw meat.  Steak!  Well, and chicken gizzards.  But steak first.  Last night, then today.  The steaks came in two-packs, which I meant to break up but never did, so... I had to that them together.  Oh, woe is me, innit?  As such, I have some impetus to finish the dishes and laundry.

Oh, my wish for snow?  We got, I would say, about four inches, here.  Logan, only 23 miles away?  At least eight inches.  But furthers south they got rain, which froze into a half inch sheet, then it snowed, then it rained and froze on top of that.  For my part?  I'm good with snow.  I will, perhaps tomorrow, see if the snow blower works under load.  Later.

WTF, Vox.

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Vox just wrote a piece, about the pajama guy in the new Obamacare commercial.  I hope he was joking.  It just didn't sound like it.  Talking about the pajama guy, who he says is a former IDF soldier as if that meant something, as someone to be respected for his service.  Bruce Lee didn't mean a thing to me, a simple, or even top, IDF, or US soldier doesn't mean much.  If I am sent for someone, I wouldn't have knocked on their door and asked them to fist fight.  I would catch them with their pants down or their lights out, then finished their job, if possible.  I don't get when people think being a warrior, even me as one, means a damned thing.  That doesn't make someone... defense-able.  I can literally kill most men you know with a few punches.  If I fight for life, and know it going in, I can take a man out of competition in less time than a blink.  I can even simply put him down but not kill him, in five seconds.  I can do that without a blade or firearm.  Add in one of those and I'm outright lethal to mass numbers of attackers or defenders.  IDF does not impress.  I don't impress me.  I am not eternal.  Even more?  What I take I cannot return.  Pathetic.

Then he suggests that the ad is genius.  I hope he is, again, jesting.  No matter how perfectly you design a fail joke to spring on attackers, if you have to explain it, you have failed.  Why not just have Boy George do the schtick.  He was said to have been a heck of a fighter.  Fail.  Same with using an IDF, or anyone "man", in onesies.  Fail.  Maybe it works for the erudite, who have merely trained for combat but have never been in it up to their necks, deeper in the worst of it, much deeper actually, with nowhere to go but enemy territory in any direction.  He loses a notch on this, if he is serious.

Oh, don't think I'm bitching behind his back.  If I was still posting comments, I would have posted this there.  Had to post it somewhere though, because it irked me.  And yes, I pound Vox just like anyone else, when they shit out a loser turd.  *bam*  I hit the pope, I hit my mom, don't think there is anyone I won't nail.  Including myself, if I find myself to be wrong.  God is about the only one I won't hit.  Even when I think He is wrong, I know it isn't Him so contemplate.

Gah!  I've got a headache.  Later.

Haiku Monday - Survival

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As I said, I won't be competing.  But I will still list who is up with what, and maybe write haiku on the topics for my own reasons.  Serendipity is up, with the theme and rules.  I am hoping by linking I won't... somehow become visible, or accessible.  Or I will just do this more quietly.

I do like the theme.  But I am not sure.  I wrote a couple, and almost posted them, but they have been lost.  The last two themes have been difficult.  And I am so blue-collar, as a poet.  I use small words, play fast and loose with the rules, and... yeah.  Then again, I think some people are wrong in how they count syllables.  Though, too, a Brit, Boer, Kiwi, or other, might have different pronunciations, or even counts.  Or my dictionaries are wrong?  People from another generation, or several generations back from me, have... a different take on grammar too.  Combine a few of those things and you get what we got here recently.  Anyway...

I'm thinking... this is a difficult theme.

Sometimes

death is a device ~

with will - as have the living

which is stronger?  choice

Alone in the Wilds

arm stuck under boulder

pocket knife, no help, mean split

sweat, blood, loss, but life

Click to read the story.

My life

not hungry, must eat

don't want meds, must take, no choice

every day struggles

Hello?

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Hello ello  lo o!  Nice!  My mind is quiet.  As it should be.

Yeah, early, I know.

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I've been scratching fleas for some time.  I thought I would be nice and offer an extended invitation.  But, no.  I won't be commenting on blogs other than those two of you who have blogs, either.  I was just getting 1,500 hits a day, but... I'm not sure they were legit.  There were more Russians visiting than Americans.  And various foreigners, from French, German, English, and the third-worlders.  My guess is they have learned a way to work through blogger, or my computer through blogger, or something.  But that isn't why I went private, just a nice bonus... if this works.

Too many people who read here took the right things wrong and the wrong things right, and perhaps any or all of it too seriously.  Oh, sure, I mean what I write.  But more in a general way, on many things.  I say things in a very pointed way, but if I suggest someone jump off a cliff... I usually don't actually mean that.  No, people just don't understand.  My guess is that the snoops will figure a way in anyway.  But they best not hit me with attitude about it or I have them clean to rights for snooping, and I will take that seriously.

Now, back to a diary.  Thoughts, ramblings, thinking process, hopes, dreams, nightmares, the dark side, and the good.  Just... a place to stretch out my mind and put the things that don't fit in 4-D "scientific" life.  Lots of it in my life.  I can't do much about it.  I might well and truly be clinically insane, for all I know.  Though I know psychologists haven't the faintest clue what they are talking about.  Their education was over their heads to start, their own theory proves their own theorists wrong - right through the theories they themselves presented.  Psychologists got to their place in the world by being leftists, not by being smart.  That doesn't change the fact that I could be clinically insane, in a right proper clinic, of which there are none.  Just... a thought to put in your pipe and smoke.

Oh?  Don't look at me like that, Lucy.  Best to look in the mirror and understand, if I am crazy... your gucking foofey.  :)

Yeah, that was cutting in to my use of this blog as a place to run through things that just don't fit in text books, stretch the bible a hair by exploring through extrapolations, and such.  I've had a long, weary, dusty, odd road.  I don't know what it all means, and never will this side of the veil.  I've seen a bit past, and have great hopes.  My faith isn't faith, anymore, so much as solid, to me, certainty.  God, heaven, hell, Satan, Christ... these are simply real.  Angels, demons, nephilim, those with the Mark of Cain, also very real.

Yes... time to get back to what I do... think, tinker, toy with, deconstruct, build... destroy.  All with an eye to discovering God's will, mind you.  God must always, for me, be kept visible, close, and in mind and heart.  I will not risk purgatory again, and I fear hell greatly, even only having heard whispers of it.  Whispered as one used to whisper about mental institutions.  I can't help others find their way, save perhaps, maybe, by trying to be a good example, in what actions I perform that are public.  They have been told, they have been warned, they know.  But they are busy.  So be it.  Either they find their own way or they don't.  That isn't my area, for the most part.

And, I will consider the flirtations of younger women.  No, it really isn't a game, not for her.  If it probably also isn't what it might appear, probably.  More, possibly, like the... love to an old, dying, but vivacious, patriarch.  Or just surprised that an old man would have a form of Mohawk, be into the strangest of music, or such.  Dunno, not for sure.  Not going there anyway.  Her father would have to almost suggest it, and she would have to be on board.  Thankfully, I know that would never be the case, so I am safe.  I think?  Pray.  But I can tinker with it, without causing all sorts of local bedlam.  Here, in my "mind".  Gah!  Oh, I understand them being a bit tetchy...  If I had a daughter, or if some other old man were...  Yeah, I understand.  But... my intent wasn't for them to...  Never mind.  Safe behind Dr. Frankenstein's castle walls...  Back home, sort of.

Hmm, yes... My first free blog in a long time.  Still, there is you all...  You do worry me, a bit.  But... so be it.  Having a little worry... is a good thing.  It's what friends and family are for!  :)

Good night.